I have written now in several blogs- in various sites around Cyperspace- whereever that is. I find it interesting that my posts never seen to be read by anyone…. except me- who of course checks my words regularly to see if someone has picked up on the threads of my whispers, to weave their own story into mine. But of course- it never seems to happen. My thoughts are still there, like some ancient hand paintings in some cave long since abandoned- and there they will probably stay. I see the same effect when I walk down a busy street and watch the faces downturned to their cellphones or blackberries- busy texting each other, while passing by unnoticed- and without even knowing if the person we are texting is standing next to us.
It is really quite sad, if one stops to think about it- but then, it also seems that no one stops to think anymore; that is a luxury none of us seem to afford ourselves. We simply type a little here, run a little there, pick up our laundry in another place, and dine yet in another- and too often alone.
We, each of us yearn to be heard, long to be seen, and live to be loved- and yet our society- led I’m afraid by those of us in the Western ‘civilized’ nations- have become more and more isolated, less and less personal, and ever more opinionated- convinced that our words matter, our own voices should be heard above the crowds, and that is our opinions- not that of others- that matter, and ring with truth.
Such is the modern dilemma- we can send rockets into deep space, yet we dare venture across the street to sit with the stranger who is our neighbor. We hold tight to our earnings, little realizing that what is truly valuable is slipping away moment by moment- as we run like ants who have forgotten where the hill is.
We are, all of us, like bees who buzz round debating the origins of honey- while the flowers wilt in the fields. We have come so far in the last one hundred years- so far and so fast. But I fear that in our race to ‘get ahead’- we may soon find that it is our very humanity that we left behind at the starting gate. And we will find out too late that even if you win the rat race- you are still only a rat. And it is only the path of the maze that has changed- and there is no reward waiting at the dead end- only another turn, another blank stare to pass by, and another blog to get us through the night. Dr. Dave
